


Joy in Repetition

by cndyprfumegirl



Series: Canem Story Time With Prince [8]
Category: Erkenci Kuş (TV)
Genre: CanEm - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:51:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cndyprfumegirl/pseuds/cndyprfumegirl
Summary: Joy in Repetition, PRN (1990)All the poets and the part time singers always hang insideLive music from a band plays a song called "Soul Psychodelicide".The song's a year long and had been playing for months when heWalked into the place.No one seemed to care, an introverted this-is-it look on most of their faces.Up on the mic repeating two words, over and over againWas this woman he had never noticed before he lost himself in theArticulated manner in which she said them.These two words, a little bit behind the beat.I mean just enough to turn you on.For every time she said the words another one of his doubts were gone.Should he try to rap with her? Should he stand and stare?No one else was watching her, she didn't seem to care.So over and over, she said the words til he could take no more, (no more)He dragged her from the stage and together they ran through the back doorIn the alley over by the curb he said tell me what's your nameShe only said the words again and it started to rain (rain, rain, rain)Two words falling between the drops and the moans of his conditionHolding someone is truly believing there's joy in repetition.There's joy in repetition.She said love me, love me, what she say?She say love me, love me.Joy, why don't you love me baby, joy, why can't you love me babyJoy, come on and love me baby, joy in repetition





	Joy in Repetition

**Author's Note:**

> Joy in Repetition, PRN (1990)  
> All the poets and the part time singers always hang inside  
> Live music from a band plays a song called "Soul Psychodelicide".  
> The song's a year long and had been playing for months when he  
> Walked into the place.  
> No one seemed to care, an introverted this-is-it look on most of their faces.  
> Up on the mic repeating two words, over and over again  
> Was this woman he had never noticed before he lost himself in the  
> Articulated manner in which she said them.  
> These two words, a little bit behind the beat.  
> I mean just enough to turn you on.  
> For every time she said the words another one of his doubts were gone.  
> Should he try to rap with her? Should he stand and stare?  
> No one else was watching her, she didn't seem to care.  
> So over and over, she said the words til he could take no more, (no more)  
> He dragged her from the stage and together they ran through the back door  
> In the alley over by the curb he said tell me what's your name  
> She only said the words again and it started to rain (rain, rain, rain)  
> Two words falling between the drops and the moans of his condition  
> Holding someone is truly believing there's joy in repetition.  
> There's joy in repetition.   
> She said love me, love me, what she say?  
> She say love me, love me.  
> Joy, why don't you love me baby, joy, why can't you love me baby  
> Joy, come on and love me baby, joy in repetition

_ Sanem _

 

I walk into the small club and look around; it’s just what I expected...just what I wanted.  It’s the kind of place that’s lit with dim blue lights and is filled with smoke that kind of just hangs in the air.  There are a few people at the bar, and a few couples scattered across tables. It’s open mic night, and there’s a man on stage playing the guitar and singing something sad.  I’m nervous--I’ve never done anything like this before, but I need it. I go to the bar and order something girly--I like my drinks sweet and fruity, the kind that suddenly hit you hard before you realize you’re already at the bottom of your glass.  

 

I’m wearing the yellow dress that I’ve only worn once--and that was to purposefully drive him crazy.  If I’m being honest, I’m wearing it for the same reason tonight. I’m glad it still fits after three kids--I still look good in it--I know I’ll still make him crazy.  My shoulder-length hair is curled into gentle waves, I’ve emphasized my eyes, and gone with a subtle look for the rest of my makeup.

 

I smile as I remember getting ready to come out earlier that evening.  Sila was sitting on my bed, watching me put on my makeup. She told me I look like a fairy princess, and she offered me her fairy wings because she thought they would look beautiful with my dress.  Sila is five now, but her mind is much older. She’s just like me, in appearance and in spirit; she has dark hair and dark eyes, just like mine--and her mind is always in the clouds, just like mine.  We made her the first time we made love, and she is our perfect gift and constant reminder that our love is more powerful than anything else that might conspire to keep us apart. Since Sila, we’ve welcomed two more angels to our family: Aslan--who is the spitting image of Can, but with Leyla’s coloring--and Aiyla, our wild storm--not even a year old yet--who is the perfect blend of the two of us. 

 

We live for our children and we love every second; but recently, we’ve forgotten to take care of us. I take a healthy sip of my drink and I feel it burn my throat and go straight to my head.  Alcohol has always affected me strongly, and I haven’t had a drink in over two years because I was pregnant and now I’m still breastfeeding Aiyla, so I need to remember to take it slow, but I don’t feel like taking it too slow--I feel a little dangerous tonight. I wonder if Can has read my text yet.

 

_ Can _

 

It’s been a long day.  I had two meetings with new clients, each on opposite sides of the city.  I had to wear a conventional suit because I know one of the clients is traditional, and he may not appreciate my specific sense of style.  I had cut my hair and trimmed my beard short recently, but that was a personal choice. I wanted something different. When Sanem first laid eyes on me after the haircut, tears welled in her eyes.  She tried to turn away so I wouldn’t see, but I did. I pulled her to me and forced her to meet my eyes. “It’s still me,  aşkım.”  She traced my face with gentle fingers and curious eyes and she kissed me.  We ended up in bed for the rest of the night--it was a good thing the kids were with their grandparents.  

 

“Can,” she said to me from above my head.  She was on her back and I had my arms around her and rested my head against her breast; she was stroking my newly short hair, feeling it between her fingers. “I feel like I keep meeting new versions of you, and each one is a beautiful layer added on top of the last one.  I fall in love with you over and over again. I wonder if there’s an end to how much it’s possible to love you.” I kissed her--because what else was I to do when she said something that made my heart burst with love for her?--and we made love a second time.

 

I smile at the memory and can’t wait to get home to Sanem and the kids.  I want to take off this suit and change into something that feels more like me; and I want to grab my wife and pull her into the hallway, away from the eyes of the children, and kiss her long and slow; and I want to gather my three angels into my arms and hug them and tickle them and bury my nose in their hair and smell their sweet scent.  I pull out my phone as I walk to my car to check my messages. There’s a text from Sanem, and I immediately slide it open to read it:

 

“Meet me here at 7.  The kids are with Leyla and Emre for the night.”

 

I tap on the map she attached and I look at my watch; it’s already 6:30.  I don’t even have time to go and change. I wonder what she’s up to as I get in the car and set off to meet Sanem.

 

_ Sanem _

 

It’s 6:32 when I receive his text: “Coming,” is his simple reply. I raise my eyebrow at that and smirk, then I take the last sip of my drink and order another one.  The man on stage is still singing his sad songs, but my name is next on the list and I hope the timing works out. I want to be on stage when he comes in. I wonder what he’ll think, what his face will look like.  Just thinking about his eyes on me while I sing for him on stage speeds my pulse and makes me throb with need. An involuntary whimper escapes my throat, and the man sitting next to me at the bar looks at me and lets his eyes wander over my body.  I slide off the stool and grab my drink. “No,” I say with a sharp upward nod of my head and click of my tongue. I walk away to get a table near the stage. 

 

“Sanem Divit,” the emcee calls.  This is it. I down my drink in a few gulps and shake my head--it’s stronger than the last one and it goes down hard.  I walk up to the stage and whisper the name of my song to the piano accompanist. He nods and winks at me, and I take the microphone from the emcee.  The music starts and my heart is pounding in my chest, my palms are sweaty, and, as I sing the first few notes, my voice shakes. I’ve chosen our song--the one we always dance to, the one we sing to each other, the one that tells our story--and as I think about us, my nerves calm.  I close my eyes and feel the music and the words flow and courage infuses my voice.

 

I feel him enter the room.  My eyes are still closed, but I know he is looking at me. His stare is heavy;  I open my eyes under its weight. Our eyes connect, and now I sing just for him.  I can see the disbelief and lust on his face as clearly as if it were written there and it makes me feel powerful.  All of my emotion is channeled into the song I’m singing for him. I notice he’s still dressed in his suit, and he looks so corporate, so straight-laced; it’s like he’s someone else.  The idea makes me hot and brings a blush to my cheeks. I’m singing the last few words of the song when Can suddenly starts making his way toward the stage. He looks like a lion stalking his prey, and I’m suddenly nervous.  The piano player is still playing the end of the song when Can walks onto the stage and grabs my hand. I hastily pass the microphone off to the emcee as Can drags me down the stairs. The emcee asks if I’m okay, and I reassure him quickly that I am as I run to keep up with my husband who is single-mindedly pulling me toward the back of the club.

 

_ Can _

 

Before I even make it inside the seedy club she’s chosen as our meeting place, I can hear her voice.  She’s singing. I quickly make my way inside and what I see stops me in my tracks: She’s on stage singing our song.  She’s wearing  _ that _ yellow dress--I can’t believe she even still has it.  She looks more incredible in it now than she did the first time she wore it.  I’m instantly hard. I take a quick glance around the room to see who else is there, who else is looking at what’s mine.  There aren’t many people there, but every man in the room has his eyes glued to her and I feel jealous rage threatening to boil over.  

 

Her eyes are closed as she sings, but I know she feels me there.  She opens her eyes and looks directly at me. As always, the strength of our connection sends a shiver down my spine.  She sings the rest of the song to me, only me. I force myself to wait, to watch her; but what I really want to do is take her away with me.  As the song comes to a close, I can’t wait anymore. I stride toward her and stalk up the stairs to the stage. I grab her hand and pull her after me, not caring that the song isn’t over, or that others are watching.  

 

We make it down the stairs and she’s running to match my pace.  I walk purposefully toward the back exit of the club and push the door open.  I pull her out the door and push her up against the brick wall in the narrow alley behind the club.  The door slams shut and we are alone. I grasp her wrists and pin them against the wall above her head.  I invade her space, pushing my body against hers, making sure she feels how hard I am. My face is inches from hers and I breathe her in.  There is triumph in her wide eyes. Her lips are parted, she’s breathing hard--this is what she wanted and she’s ready for me. 

 

A bolt of lightning flashes in the sky and thunder crashes.  Rain starts to come down on us, soaking us to the skin. My lips crash against hers and slide against her slick skin and my tongue plunges into her mouth, claiming her.  She pulls to try to free her hands--I know she wants to touch me--but I don’t let her. I’m stronger than she is by far, and I plan to exert my power over her. My lips drag down her jaw to her neck and I suck her wet flesh into my mouth hard and sink my teeth into her.  She moans my name. 

 

I move her hands together so I can hold both wrists with one hand.  I move my free hand down her body to close on her breast and palm her roughly.  Her hard nipples are visible through her wet dress, and my mouth waters with the need to taste them.  I bend my head and suck her nipple through the fabric of her dress. I lift my head and lock my eyes with hers and both of us are panting. “Can,” she whispers. “Can, I need you.”  I need her, too. I move my hand down to the closure of my pants and open them to pull my hard cock out of my pants and she looks down at me. “Let me touch you. Please, Can,” she says, her voice husky with need.  

 

I release her hands; she’ll need them to hold on to me in a minute.  She grips me firmly and strokes me from base to tip as she kisses me.  I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me. She’s still stroking me.  I hold her up against the rough wall with one arm and reach between her legs with my other hand.  She’s not wearing any panties and she’s soaking wet. I tear my lips away from hers and look in her eyes.  “You knew what you were doing when you woke up this morning, didn’t you.”

 

She shifts slightly in my hold to place my hard length against her wet core.  She puts both arms around my neck and smiles at me, casting her eyes down for a moment before meeting mine again. Droplets of water cling to her lashes and drip from her hair.  Her hands on my neck smooth down the soggy lapels of my now ruined finely tailored suit and adjust the knot of my tie. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. You showing up in this suit couldn’t be more perfect,” she says looking me in the eye.  She kisses her way to my ear and whispers, “Love me, Can. Love me.” I cover her mouth with mine and pull my hips back slightly to enter her hard and smooth. She gasps with the force of it and I moan into her mouth. 

 

Neither one of us seems to be too concerned by the fact that someone could walk out and catch us at any moment, or that the rain is pouring down on us.  Our hips move against each other with lightning speed, chasing our little death. Our mouths never leave each other. It feels like she’s inside of me and I’m inside of her and we’re one person.  Her hands grip my shoulders harder, her legs wrap around me tighter and I lift them up higher on my hips to fuck her deeper. 

 

“Can!” she screams, tearing her lips from mine. “Love me. Love me,” she repeats over and over again against my mouth.  I move my hand between her legs again to rub her clit. I feel her come around me. I feel the pulsing of her sex around mine and I empty myself into her, giving her all of me.  

 

She holds my head in her hands, gripping the short strands of my hair, and kisses me hard.  I slowly lower her to the ground, but I keep my arms around her firmly--her legs are trembling and I don’t want her to fall.

 

“Sanem, Sanem,” I say against her mouth as we kiss slows down to something and sweet and tender.  “You will never stop surprising me.”

 

“Never,” she says, looking into my eyes and gently stroking my cheek.

 

“I’ll say something, though,” I whisper as I place a kiss on her nose, “I never want you to wear this dress in public again.  I almost had to kill every man in that bar.”

 

She giggles into my neck.  “I promise, my love. I’m all yours.”  She reaches down and gently puts me back in my pants and zips me up.  I pull her dress down as far as it will go and frown. She laughs again and kisses my forehead. “Take me home, my husband. I’m not finished with you yet.”

  
  
  



End file.
